“Can you help me? I need to make a phone call.”
I didn’t know Rett’s number, but I had come up with a plan. The only number I could recall was Ross’s and during the questioning, the NOPD said they were in possession of his phone. I could call it; they could call Rett. It might be farfetched, but my choices were limited.
The woman looked to the man. I thought for a moment I had a chance, but the man shook his head and spoke, not to me but to the woman. His voice was deep. The language he spoke was unfamiliar, yet I recognized the tone and speed of his speech.
In the last month and a half, I’d had a crash course in the meaning of different tones. I’d learned enough to recognize that there was something in this man’s tenor that indicated he wasn’t pleased.
I waited.
The woman’s reaction confirmed my suspicion. Without turning to me, she went back to the beans. His pale eyes came to me and he shook his head.
This conversation was over.
I peered out from the back of the house determined to find another way to get home. The landscape wasn’t significantly different than from the front other than the presence of two other buildings surrounded by tall trees. Their structure was less grand than this house. The wood siding was weathered, and the wood shingled roofs were covered in moss. I reasoned that at least one of the structures was a garage. After all, the car had come this way.
Maybe if I could get into the buildings...
“Emma.”
Through the screen, I heard and saw Kyle returning to the kitchen. I had the sensation of getting caught doing something that I shouldn’t. A quick look at the couple and the way the woman’s hands now shook let me know that if I didn’t do something, I could be a cause for their trouble. Biting my lip, I reached for the door handle.
“Are you going to tell me where we are?” I asked.
“This is our mother’s home.”
I spoke quieter and asked, “What language do they speak?”
“Most call it Creole. It’s heavy on French with a lot of made-up words. They don’t think they’re made up, but it takes time to understand. Honestly, there are so many dialects that in all these years, I’m still floundering.”
“Language never was your forte.”
“Well, your writing isn’t what we need either.” He tilted his head toward the front of the house. “Mother is going to rest. She said she won’t be able to unless she knows you’re being taken care of.”
“A cellar isn’t taking care of me. Let me call Rett.” My attention went to the glass of water waiting upon the countertop. My thirst had subsided, but seeing the milky liquid caused it to return.
“Again, Em, if I handed you a fucking phone, you couldn’t make the call.”
I looked to him as his gaze went to my left hand, my wedding rings, and back to my face.
“How is that marriage thing working for you?”
Any patience I’d tried to summon up was wearing thin. “Shut up.”
“We’re not kids anymore. You can’t talk to me like that.”
“I want answers.”
“When Mother is ready.”
I sucked in a breath, ready with a retort, as Liam came around the corner, stopping at the doorway.
In my conversation with Kyle, I hadn’t heeded the second or two warning when I’d heard footsteps on the hardwood. I was admittedly unprepared as Liam and I came eye to eye.
Instinctively, I scanned the man I’d loved a long time ago, from his dark hair to the toes of his shoes. I hadn’t noticed when he appeared outside the car earlier today, but he was dressed in a suit, not unlike the ones Rett wore. His shoes were leather loafers, not tennis shoes like Kyle’s. Despite the heat, much like Kyle, he appeared unaffected.
Liam’s chest filled with air, testing the buttons on his suit coat as he stared my direction.
Gripping the countertop, I stood straighter, not looking away.